Just like Sherlock
by lacedwithlilacs
Summary: Q from MI6 is the third and youngest Holmes brother, Sherrinford. After meeting Molly through Sherlock and starting a relationship with her, Sherlock is still a major problem in their relationship. This is set in the Skyfall version of James Bond. Credit to q-of-mi6 of Tumblr for the inspiration for this particular AU.


"Must you do that?" Molly asks from across the table, her fingers interlocked and tucked under her chin as she watches Sherrinford's fingers fly across the keyboard. She's been sitting in the same position for three minutes now, simply running her eyes up and down him, studying his every movement. Sherrinford reaches over to the mug on his left, bringing the cup to his lips and pouring the still hot tea onto his tongue until the cup is empty. He sets the cup back down in the same fashion as before, with the handle turned at 45 degrees from his edge of the table in the same exact ring on the napkin.

He doesn't have to look over at the cup, instead he keeps his eyes on the screen, reading the response quickly and begins typing more coding into the interface. After years of the same routine, Sherrinford doesn't have to try and aim to get the cup in exactly the same spot, it's just habit. "Do what," Sherrinford asks without any inflection of question in his voice, deadpanning it and he sees Molly's shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't look up at her though, instead replying to the error code brought back to his computer screen. She stands up and takes the cup, bringing it over to the counter on his left to make him a fresh cup.

All she's trying to do is get his attention, which he admits is a completely valid thing to want from your boyfriend, but he's reiterated to her time and time again that there are certain things that he can't turn down. She pulls the tea out of the cupboard and makes his tea exactly how he likes it without even having to ask him. "You don't stop looking at that computer. When you're working, you just stare straight at it for hours at a time and you don't ever move your eyes away from it. It's like there's a magnet that is keeping your eyes stuck on that monitor. All that you move is your fingers and occasionally your left hand to get your tea. It's like the entire world outside of that screen stops."

From the way she walks over, much slower than usual, bringing the cup of fresh tea over to him and placing it exactly in the same way as he had before, he knows what she's doing. He quickly brings his left hand up and shuts the cover of the laptop with lightning speed, obviously jolting her by the way that her hand tenses and lingers at the handle of the mug for a split second longer. "Molly," he says as he looks up at her for the first time since last night. "You know that this is MI6 work. This is _Q's_ work. You can't see it." He emphasizes the fact that this is not Sherrinford right now, this is Q. A high class government agent. That there is no ability to turn in an assignment late. Sherrinford locks his eyes onto Molly's like she's turned into the screen, watching her every single movement like he's at HQ right now.

He stands up and presses his hands on her upper arms, sliding them down the soft, slightly tanned arms and takes her hands into his. She's wearing lipstick, enough to accentuate her lips without being overbearing, the "natural look" as she called it. Her dress is a soft yellow with floral print of yellow daffodils and pink pansies, the hem reaching just below her knees and sleeveless, like she's prepared herself for a day out rather than sitting around inside of their flat while Sherrinford works for hours. "If I could do this later then I would, but the deadline is tonight and there are still a few bugs in the-" Sherrinford coughs and recomposes himself, this time he tries to speak without potentially breaking regulation by spilling the assignment. "The deadline is tonight," he corrects and drops her hands.

Molly takes a step back away from him, "Tell me, when was the last time that we spent any real time together? It must be at least a week, if not two or more. I can't remember the last time that we ate a meal together and we live together! You're working from the minute I wake up until the after I go to bed. It's like you don't really live here sometimes, it's like you just use the shelter and that's all." Sherrinford sighs and looks up at the ceiling, off white with dings in the plaster and counts the seconds until Molly takes another step back. She's right though as much as he hates to admit it, but he'd told her early on when they started dating that he was married to his work. That when assignments are federal regulations that they do not have the possibility of being late or delayed. Assignments from high take precedence over everything, even breathing if it would make him work faster. Molly had said "Sherlock says the same thing about work" back then too.

Sherrinford sits back down at the computer, taking a swish of the fresh tea and waits until Molly moves back to flip the lid back open and begin typing faster, almost nearing his 165 word per minute maximum to try and make up for the lost time. Their table is nearly all Sherrinford's work, his laptop taking up half of the small, white, circular table alone. He has his keyboard laid out in front of it, professional grade for quick typing and long lasting durability that's already half worn out. His cup of tea takes up what's left of the table's left wing and an unused mouse, probably now collecting dust after no use for nearly three hours lays on the right wing.

Molly swallows hard, he can hear her as she tries to keep from letting her emotions show too much. "You know you're a lot like Sherlock when you work. You won't let anyone distract you and if anyone does manage to get your attention then you have to work extra hard to get back on track. Did you even notice that I filled your tea for you six times for you today alone?"

Sherrinford quickly pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stares at the computer screen, "It was actually seven times including this last one, but yes I did, thank you. I _can_ multitask working and observing." He tries to respond without sounding too harsh, but Molly's already wasted precious time and he can't afford more delays. He can't directly see Molly's angry glare at him but he can assume by the way that she storms off into their bedroom, presumably to cry or throw things at the wall again. He hadn't been observing her closely enough to tell which one she'll choose in their bedroom.

There is only one way to comfort Molly after one of these "arguments", where she accuses Sherrinford of being 'just like Sherlock'. They seem to be having these arguments about his brother more often lately, almost daily now.. He finishes his work after a few more hours of coding, with only a few kinks in the road before he can send the proper coding off to M for the device to be made. When he finally looks up from his computer screen and into the living room, the room is dark and as if on cue the clock strikes 8. He turns to the left and stretches his legs out towards the center of the kitchen. He interlocks his fingers, turns his palms outward and stretches out. He cracks every one of his knuckles and then his wrists before he finally stands up. He shuts the lid on his laptop and lays his glasses on top of them, folded neatly and runs his hand through his hair to go deal with his girlfriend who has yet to come out of their bedroom. It's already been nearly five hours since their argument.

Sherrinford hovers his hand over the doorknob, listening to the silence in the bedroom. Slowly he turns the knob on the door, creaking it open as quietly as he can. Molly's fond of getting late afternoon naps when she can and the way that their bedroom window sits facing the west in the perfect angle for the sun in the later afternoon lulls her to sleep, especially after crying. Sherrinford knows that the only way to comfort Molly after one of her 'just like Sherlock' fits is to hold her and kiss her, physical contact is the only way that Sherrinford can convince her that he's not a carbon copy of his brother.

When he gets the door open far enough to peak his head in though, he sees Molly sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard and reading one of her thick romance novels, the ones that have bulky men in loincloths on the cover. At her feet is Sherrinford's suitcase, bulging slightly at the top. Molly looks up at the door and puts her book down on the faded white nightstand. She doesn't bookmark her spot and that's when Sherrinford knows he's in trouble. "You're leaving," Molly says quickly as she stands up from the bed and points at his suitcase, "I've already packed all of your clothes for you. I can't keep dealing with you working all of the time and you doing the same exact thing that Sherlock does to me at work. I can't take it anymore!"

Molly yanks the suitcase off of the bed by its black plastic handle on the side and throws it towards Sherrinford. "Molly aren't you overreacting a bit?" Sherrinford says as he catches the navy blue soft sided suitcase and sets it down on the ground, trying to reach for his girlfriend. "Come on Molly, what did I really do to make you so upset? This can't possibly be about this morning!"

Molly yanks away from Sherrinford and slaps his hand away from her, his hand stinging immediately from the sharp contact. "I've been putting up with this _crap_ for almost three weeks and I'm completely fed up with it. We never spend any time together because either you're working around the clock or I'm stuck at work dealing with- Even when I'm not at work. Everything you do Sherrin! Every single thing you do somehow manages to remind me of Sherlock! He tortures me at work and then I come home and you do the same things as he does! It's driving me mad and I can't deal with this anymore!" She's screaming by the end of it and her face is growing splotches of red from her heavy breathing.

"We've been completely swamped at work because two of the girls in the department are both on maternity leave at the same time. You knew that my workload was going to jump when I told you that a few weeks ago." Sherrinford says back, sternly and he raises his voice but he's still nowhere near the level that Molly's at, "And how am I like Sherlock? I lived with him until I was 11 years old and I barely talk to him. How would I be "exactly like him"?" Sherrinford takes a step forward.

Molly reaches out and shoves Sherrinford away from her, sitting down on the edge of the bed quickly and folding her arms tight across her chest. "Just leave," she says her voice restrained to a regular tone. "I'm not having this discussion with you again for the fourth night in a row." Sherrinford shakes his head, running his hand through his hair again and gripping at the back of it tightly until it begins to hurt. He takes the suitcase, pulling the handle up and rolling it out into the main living room.

Sherrinford quickly packs up his laptop into its sleeve and then into its special protective case, locking the case and putting his glasses on. There's simply no point in trying to reason with Molly tonight and he certainly won't have any time tomorrow with 005's mission coming up. He decides that he'll give Molly a few days before he approaches her again. He hopes that by that time, she'll have had enough time to realize how much she overreacted and that sometimes working for high class government agencies leave one with virtually no free time. Sherrinford pulls a dark black trench coat on over his cardigan and laments that he doesn't have the time to change into a better outfit. If he's not gone in another minute, he can't be sure what Molly won't throw at him.

He drags the suitcase down the steps and out the front door of their flat complex, signaling for a cab. He throws his suitcase in on the seat next to him and presses his laptop case close to his leg as he closes the door and gives the driver the address. Sherrinford pulls out his cell phone and quickly dials MI6's relocation department. The cab shows up in front of the address in ten minutes, Sherrinford tipping the driver a bit extra for the sake of it. He figures that someone ought to have a nice night. He drags the suitcase behind him and pulls it up to the front door, adjusting the strap on his computer case as he runs his eyes down the list of names before he rings twice with no answer.

An older woman answers the door and clicks her tongue as she leads him up the stairs. "Sherlock, is your buzzer not working again?" she calls out and opens the door to the living area, "You have a visitor here. He says it's important. He's got a suitcase and he looks a bit jolted." She says and tries to whisper the last bit as though Sherrinford can't hear her.

The moment that Sherrinford steps out from behind the woman, Sherlock's somewhat pleased expression, if he had one that is, changes immediately. "No," he says and points the bow of his violin at Sherrinford. "Leave immediately." Sherlock moves the bow to the left and points it out towards the door to Baker Street.

"Why Sherlock," the woman interjects and Sherrinford shakes his head. He hadn't expected any less from Sherlock. Sherlock sets the violin and bow down on his desk behind him. He stands up and places his hands on the woman's shoulders as he leads her out the door.

"Mrs. Hudson, I specifically told you that my brothers were not allowed anywhere near this flat."

"Oh well I didn't know he was your brother. You don't tell me these sort of things Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson replies as she starts down the stairs. "Well at least talk to the man!"

Sherlock turns back to Sherrinford, frowns and repeats, "No."

John appears in the doorway, still holding the daily newspaper in his left hand, "Come on in Sherrinford." Sherrinford doesn't take a step forward and he notes the way that Sherlock snaps immediately to John. John narrows his eyes, just fractions of an inch but Sherlock seems to deflate as completely as Sherlock can. "Well hurry up." John shuts the door behind Sherrinford as he drags the suitcase into the living room.

"What does MI6 want from me," Sherlock says coldly, giving Sherrinford only a passing glance. "And why would they send their Q to try and convince me."

Sherrinford sits down on the leather couch near the door, leaving his suitcase with the handle still up near the door. "MI6 wants nothing from you and you know that I am strictly called Sherrinford outside of the Head Quarters. I simply came here to tell you Molly kicked me out tonight."

"If you need," John says without missing a beat, even before Sherlock can say anything, "you can stay here for the night and find somewhere in the morning. It's getting a bit late to be searching for a decent room." John smiles at Sherrinford and sends Sherlock another one of his microscopic glares.

Sherlock shakes his head and moves the violin and bow to their case before he sits down in his chair with his knees tucked against his chest, now staring Sherrinford down as though Sherlock could turn him to dust with enough concentration. "Even if he needed a place to stay, which he doesn't, it wouldn't be here. He would stay with Mycroft. But he's a high ranking officer of MI6, he doesn't need a place to stay. They already have a hotel room picked out for him on the 32nd floor with a city view and a personal servant."

"It's on the 31st floor, but fair enough. Thank you for the offer John, but I lived with Sherlock for 11 years and I can assure you that I have absolutely no plans on going back to that lifestyle. I only came to say that if Sherlock needs help in the lab that Molly will not be helping him within the next few days." Sherrinford says and rebuttons his coat as he stands up.

"Why didn't you just call?" John asks.

"I blocked his number," Sherlock replies immediately without even looking up at Sherrinford.

"I knew if I had called that Sherlock wouldn't have answered anyways." Sherrinford smiles back at him as he takes the handle of his suitcase, "And I disabled that block on my number within 20 seconds of it being set and I've put myself as a permanent contact on your phone. You can try to delete it and block it, but if you somehow managed to succeed I have a private alarm set on my computer. I also did it with Mycroft's numbers." Sherrinford nods as he opens the door for himself and shows himself out. "Thank you for the hospitality John, until next time Sherlock."

Sherrinford hails another cab, now having been texted the address of the hotel as he'd climbed the stairs to Sherlock's flat. As he settles into the cab, he pulls his cell phone out again and types in the numbers at a rapid speed, almost too quickly for his phone to register the numbers. "Mycroft it's Sherrin, you were right about John and Sherlock being together. John practically has Sherlock on a leash."


End file.
